


That's Not In The Workout Manual

by lothering



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Face-Fucking, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rutting, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4556628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lothering/pseuds/lothering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a successful mission, North has some adrenaline to burn, and Wash has some insomnia to work through, so they decide to hit up the gym for a late night workout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Not In The Workout Manual

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-d, so if there's a stray work or a wonky sentence hanging around, let me know!

The door to North's bunk slid open near silently as he punched in his pass code, swiftly followed in by Wash, who had been gliding down one of the MOI's corridors on his skateboard as the taller agent was just getting out of a mission debrief. It was late. Too late to be night, yet too early to quite be morning. In this twilight hour, buzzed on adrenaline and the pleasant satisfaction of a successful mission, North found he appreciated the younger agent's company. The ship lay mostly silent but for the whirr of it's own inner workings, and the passings of the night shift who maintained the hulking spacecraft. All of the other freelancers were either sleeping or, in some cases, out on missions of their own, and North would have hated to have woken any of them off with the excuse of chatting off his post-mission adrenaline rush. That Wash happened to be working through an episode of insomnia by flipping tricks through the largely empty ship corridors worked to the older agent's advantage, happily enough.

"-so South goes falling tail over teakettle down the embankment, right into the rear guard she'd been tailing, and you know what happens?"

Flipping his board up into his hand, Wash leaned against the wall ask North began to peel off his armor in the midst of regaling his latest mission with his twin. "Let me guess: guy gets pissed off, shoots South, alerts the rest of the squadron?"

"No! The poor bastard falls over a cliff, breaks his neck, and the squad is none the wiser! Managed to get the sneak on them about a mile up the trail, took half of them out herself while I sniped the ones on her back."

"A real horseshoe up her ass sort of situation, then?"

The laugh that followed the younger freelancer's comment was freer than he was used to hearing, filled with unrestrained delight brought to the fore by the adrenaline running through him. With his helmet off, North looked ruffled and carefree, almost boyish despite his thirty years, and Wash felt his stomach drop to soles of his feet. The man was gorgeous, this the weapon's specialist would swear on a bible or any legal document to. He couldn't deny the appeal of the early wrinkles lining North's forehead, or the tiny, almost ignorable bean-shaped birthmark at the man's collar.

And that was only the top twenty percent of him. Lord above, as North peeled his under suit off after carefully stowing away his armor, Wash silently thanked the God that he didn't believe in that he should ever have the chance to be in the same space as the latter agent while he was changing. The man was fit, obviously. To be part of a highly secret operative such as Freelancer, one had to be. Muscular, for sure, but more wiry than a good deal of the other agents. His fighting style was scrappish, bordering on street-style, and it showed in the muscles of his arms and legs, which he relied on more as a snipe-and-go sort of guy. One shot, one kill, and if anyone crept up on him, well North was more than capable of strangling out an unfortunate soul.

The way other agent moved was elegant, too, Wash noted. Easy, relaxed, but jaunty and almost co-ordinated as a constant dance. He briefly remembered having been told that the twins had both done some ballet, back in their youth. The motion didn't show in South's bold swagger, but in North, the muscles seemed to remember their training, and he flowed everywhere he moved, easily adjusting course when need be.

That, or Wash was just uselessly sentimental and poetic. Two traits which he desperately kept to himself - traits that didn't have a use in the Project.

Still, he watched North, and he did so frequently. What he saw of the blond, in armor on the training floor or battle field, or naked in the communal showers, oh, Wash remembered. He remembered the way the man easily deflected his own sister's punches during hand-to-hand combat sessions, remembered the smooth plains of his thighs and the glide of water across the topography of his back. He couldn't count on either of his hands or feet the amount of times he'd jacked off while running through fantasies of what it would be like to be held gently or face-fucked ruthlessly by the other man.

"Wash? Earth to Wash. Are you still with me?"

"Huh?" Evidently, he had spaced out sometime during North's tale, and to his embarrassment he had to shift his skateboard in front of him to hid the hard-on that was starting to form in his sweats. "Yeah, sorry about that, bud. Guess I'm starting to get tired."

"Ah, well, don't let me keep you up." North fidgeted with his under suit where it was pulled down to his waist. He was still wide awake, eyes focused intensely on Wash, but guilt was written all over him.

Wash immediately waved his free hand dismissively, "No, no, I'm not that tired. Might go hit the gym for a bit, though. You game?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" The rest of the under suit began it's descent, guided by steady hands, and Wash felt an urgent need to get out and, ah, 'cool down'.

"I'll, uh, meet you down there, yeah?" Before he could get a response, the younger agent was off, door sliding shut behind him as he took deep, steady breaths to calm the heat boiling up inside of him. There were so many reasons that this might be a bad idea - him and North alone, sweaty, _half-clothed_  - but he couldn't back out now. Besides, he'd worked out with North a million times before - not exactly alone, but close enough - so it's not like he couldn't be professional about it, right?

Wash didn't feel nearly as confident about the thought as he should have.

\----

As expected, the gym was empty at this time of night. The room was eerily silent as Wash entered, dressed down to black shorts and a heather gray UNSC military t-shirt. Since joining the project, he had become used to the sound of weights dropping to padded floors, the grunts of strained personnel as they struggled to get in one last rep, the hum of fans blasting air into the humid room. Now, all was silent as the weights sat in their racks, the fans whirred on their lowest setting, and most of the ship's crew lay asleep.

The silence gave Wash some much-needed peace, long enough to cool his head (and groin), and level himself out in preparation for the workout. When North showed up a few minutes later, it was to find the other freelancer already laid out on a mat, stretching his calves.

"So what do you think, Wash? Leg press first, or squat rack?"

"Mm, lets do leg press first. I'll spot you."

Stretches done and bodies primed, the agents meandered over to the leg press machine. As the taller blond settled in on the bench, Wash called over his shoulder from the weight rack, "How much d'you want to start with, big guy?"

"I'm still a bit ramped up from the mission, so lets start at 550." He waited for Wash to finish loading the weights before correcting his form. "Alright, five reps and we'll increase it by thirty."

Five repetitions later, and hardly a sheen of sweat had broken out on the sniper. Wash added thirty as North rested two minutes, then stood at hand as the other agent pushed the bar up in steady, continuous strides. They continued like this for some time, increasing the weight fractionally until they breached a thousand pounds. In the moments he rested, North's eyes closed, and Wash took the opportunity to stare.

Sweat beaded the other man's brow, and his thighs bulged slightly beneath lycra workout shorts. It wouldn't be long before North reached his functional limit, but oh, how Wash wanted to smooth his hands up the sniper's thighs, massage deep down into the tender tissue, and run his palms up under those shorts until -

The weight he was carrying clattered loudly onto the bar. North peeled an eye open with a question look, which Wash shrugged off. "Hand slipped. Sorry."

All the answer he got was a low grunt, before North adjusted his posture and began pumping away at the press again. Wash wisely kept his eyes on the bar from that point on, though he did find his fingers twitching, aching to touch powerful thighs as they shunted incredible amounts of weight.

When North maxed out, they reset the bar weight, giving the bench a quick wipe down from where the previous man had sweat through his shirt. Distractedly, Wash noted North plucking at his collar, giving him fluttering glimpses of that birthmark he had been ruminating over earlier.

Leg presses were one of Wash's more favored exercises, easier than the squat cages, and only slightly more interesting than the rowing machines. It was the one thing with which he was on par with York, and really, it just sounded more amazing when you could tell people, 'yeah, I pressed over a thousand pounds today.' Even better was the fact that it gave him a fairly decent view of North's backside whenever he bent over to retrieve another weight. So, yeah, he was fairly motivated to work hard at the leg presses. By the time he reached his threshold, he'd become quite familiar with the rotund globes of the others mans ass, tempting him from beneath their taught fabric confines.

At that point, he'd long since given up trying not to run dirty thoughts of the other man through his mind. Although he did make certain to turn just so as to hide the beginnings of another hard-on from his partner.

After a brief session in the squat rack, they moved on to the bench press, and it was there that Wash finally felt his willpower peter out.

"Can you set up the bar for me, Wash? I'm just going to throw this thing to the side." The aforementioned 'thing' being North's sweat soaked t-shirt. Mutely, the weapons specialist nodded, starting the bar off at one hundred pounds. North chuckled at this.

"Are you hinting at something, Wash? I can bench more than that to start."

"Yeah, well, you are getting pretty old, North. Don't wanna put too much strain on those creaky old bones of yours, do we?" Wash grinned, wiping his hands off on his shorts as North snorted and laid down on the bench.

"I'll show you 'old bones' you little brat. Keep count for me, please."

Forty reps, four sets, and five increases later ("For the love of God, Wash, add another twenty. This isn't high school fitness - I can lift a man twice my size."), and two things were growing increasingly noticeable: one being that North made the mode delicious sounds as he pumped the heavy bar with assistance only to set it back up in the rack. And the second being the way that Wash's shorts were becoming tighter by the minute.

As he helped the other man rack the bar, Wash's hands brushed against North's, and suddenly the air felt charged with electricity. He hadn't been paying particular attention to the way the sniper's attention had been drawing in on him, to busy with his own absorbed fantasies to realize that he was being watched in return. When the shorter man looked down past where their hands were touching, a nervous gasp caught in his throat. Vivid blue eyes stared back up at him, sharp and intense, hungry for lack of better words.

They stayed like that for several tense, honey-slow moments, before a slow smile began to grow on North's reddened face.

"You know, Wash, exercise isn't the only way to work off adrenaline."

"I...I, uh..."

"Wash."

"North?"

"Your erection is practically slapping me in the face. I'm not stupid. Come here."

Almost on auto-pilot, Wash sidled over to the side of the bench, where North had slid down away from the weight bar, but not quite off the bench itself. He patted his chest. "Straddle me, Wash. Over my chest."

He did so, body vibrating with excitement and tense arousal, hovering above North's chest briefly before the man pulled him down by his thighs until he was seated high up on that bare, muscular chest.

"There's a good man. Now, try not to make too much noise, unless you're eager to give a show. Not that I'm complaining, but I think I'd like to keep you for myself right now." This all said as the front of Wash's shorts and boxers were pulled down and tucked snug up underneath his balls, cock bobbing freely until it was taken to hand. North wasted little time on teasing the man above him, lifting his head to lick a hot, wet stripe up the underside of Wash's length. When he reached the crown, he bobbed his head, taking it into the moist cavern of his mouth, at the same time reaching up with his free hand to encourage Wash to move further forward for ease of access.

North reclined again, dropping the hand that held the other man's cock so he could rest his palms against Wash's hips as the younger freelancer took the hint to angle himself over his partner's face. He braced himself against the bar that sat on the bench rack, stumbling slightly as the bar shifted in it's resting spot, before catching himself and moaning as his length slid further into North's mouth. An answering hum, short and pleased, told the younger man that he had moved into just the position that North had wanted him in, for which Wash was immediately grateful.

"C-Can I move?" He panted, embarrassed at his own desperation so quick to show itself, yet found he didn't have the capacity to be too troubled by it when North gave another affirming hum. "Oh, thank God."

Wash settled into a slow rhythm at first, teasing himself down a ways, careful not to choke North, before pulling back up so that he nearly pulled out, then plunging down again agonizingly slow. North's fingers squeezed into his hips, drawing him down further, tugging in an effort to make him increase the pace. Wash found that he was in no position to resist, and held tight to the bar in front of him as he began to thrust faster and harder into the willing mouth beneath him.

He was embarrassingly quick. The wet, slick sound of North slurping around his engorged cock stoked a roaring fire in his veins, stirring Wash to rut faster by the minute. His grip on the weight bar tightened, rattling it in it's rack despite it's weight, thighs trembled from the angle at which he held himself poised down into North's mouth. A spark lit deep down in his gut, spreading hot and wonderful down to his balls before spreading everywhere else in his body. His breathing stuttered, panting harsh and loud in the quiet of the gym, hips jerking, stuttering, pushing, pushing, pushing until-!

"Oh, fuck, North!"

Wash came with a wail, feeling as if he had slammed into a brick wall with the effort of it. His hips jerked minutely as the last of his cum seeped into North's slackened mouth. Distantly, he was aware of that warm, wonderful mouth pulling away, and through half-closed eyes he saw North swallow, lick his lips, and grin.

"That was amazing, Wash."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I could say the same." North's huffed laughter made a blossom of affection bloom within the younger man.

"Well, if you don't mind, I think it's my turn now."

Wash found himself easily manhandled until he was lying chest-down on the bench with North behind him, clothed groin tucked snug up against his rear. The older agent bowed over Wash, nose tucked into his neck as he began to rut hard against his ass, a long, shuddering sigh released. If he weren't so sensitive, Wash might have been inclined to rise to occasion again, but as it was he was weak limbed and simply happy to listen to North grunt against his neck, hands gripping his hips tight, hard cock grinding roughly against the swell of his ass over and over again until with a final, forced exhale, North came in his own shorts.

They lay like that, North on top on Wash, for a few minutes longer before North peeled away with a grimace. "This...may not have been my best plan."

Wash laughed, brushing back his hair as he turned over and sat up. "You think?"

North shrugged, reaching over to grab a spray bottle of disinfectant and disposable rags to clean off the bench press. "The payout was worth it, though."

A thoughtful silence lingered as they righted themselves, and in North's case gathered his shirt. At the door, Wash paused, licking his lips. "How'd you like to make some more bad decisions in the near future?"

North didn't even wait a moment to respond, "Wash, there's nothing I'd like better than to make bad decisions with you, especially if they end with your dick in my mouth."


End file.
